daylight is loaned, nighttime is given
by possibilist
Summary: 'Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn's knuckles and drenches them in tears and thinks that Sleeping Beauty is the worst fairytale ever told.' Drabble during the weeks after Quinn's accident. Rachel's POV. Sweet, angsty, happy ending. Faberry.


Summary: 'Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn's knuckles and drenches them in tears and thinks that _Sleeping Beauty _is the worst fairytale ever told.' Drabble during the weeks after Quinn's accident. Rachel's POV. Sweet, angsty, happy ending. Faberry.

AN (1): Hello, friends! So this is Rachel's POV post-3x14, because I just can't get enough of these fics and April is like in another year, so I hope you guys like this. :) Please leave me a review! :)

AN (2): Recommended listening: "Swoon" by Big Deal.

* * *

><p>daylight is loaned (nighttime is given)<p>

.

_at night we are all strangers, even to ourselves  
><em>—Alexander McCall Smith

_..._

one. _take me to your bed, don't take me home, i want to be older_

.

The lifetime risk of dying in a car accident is 1 in 84. For some reason Rachel can't remember, she knows this.

She wishes she didn't.

.

It had been nearly fourteen hours since Rachel has seen Quinn. And now she's standing outside Quinn's room, the sterile, horrifying smell of disinfectant and hospital-food-breakfast beginning to pervade everything.

It's here and at this exact moment of sunrise that Rachel prays to a god she doesn't believe in, only because Quinn does.

.

Rachel goes into the room after five and a half deep breaths, Santana and Brittany directly behind her, Brittany's warm hand absentmindedly against the small of her back. She fleetingly remembers that she's still in her wedding dress.

.

The doctors had told them to be prepared, just like they were on _Grey's Anatomy _or _House _or something. But Rachel had only caught some of that part of the speech, because _Quinn is paralyzed from the waist down _is still roaring in her ears. Her heart adds _It's all your fault_ with every single beat.

.

She's not prepared, not in the slightest. Brittany starts crying first and Santana catches her and when Rachel glances at them, Santana is shaking with silent sobs too.

Rachel moves, somnambulant, to the side of the hospital bed. Rachel studies the cuts on her left cheekbone, held together with stark black stitches. Quinn's left leg is hoisted up and there's staples holding together the pale, smooth skin of her thigh, shiny against an incision from surgery. She's on a ventilator still, because she'd broken ribs and those had hurt her lung, and probably the most wonderful, awful thing in Rachel's entire life is when Quinn's chest falls and rises again with the sigh of the machine.

Quinn's hair, short and silky still, fans out against the pillow, and if Rachel looks past the breathing tube in Quinn's mouth and her black eye and the stitches in her skin, it's almost like she's sleeping. Like with true love's simple kiss, she'd wake up and everything would be better.

Rachel takes Quinn's hand, which is warm and soft and has an IV taped into the top. It makes Rachel sick when she notices that Quinn's nails are painted the pink of her bridesmaid's dress.

Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn's knuckles and drenches them in tears and thinks that _Sleeping Beauty _is the worst fairytale ever told.

...

two. _it was not being oneself that was hard_

.

Rachel is asleep and Quinn is asleep when Quinn's sister comes. Her presence wakes Rachel up, because she sort of skids to a halt when she makes it about two feet into Quinn's room, and when Rachel looks at her through bleary, tired eyes, she has to blink a few times because she looks _so much _like Quinn she has to be sure she's not dreaming.

They're both still for a few seconds, but then her sister seems to pull herself into some form of functional motion and hesitantly looks away from Quinn towards Rachel.

"Hi," she whispers. "I'm Frannie."

"I'm Rachel." She doesn't whisper because Quinn's on so many meds she won't wake up, although she'd gotten to come off the ventilator a few hours before and was doing well so far.

Frannie sits down next to Rachel and takes Quinn's hand, kisses it softly. She has short blond hair and Quinn's perfect cheekbones and she's wearing clothes that Rachel thinks Quinn must have given her, because the little white dress and brown ankle boots and yellow cardigan are perfect.

"You look just like her," Rachel breathes.

Frannie's head snaps up and her eyes are incredibly blue. "Thanks," she says, and Rachel might love her more in that moment than she's ever loved anyone before.

.

Quinn's not nearly as dramatic as Rachel had imagined when she finally—_finally_—wakes up. It's a few hours after Frannie gets there, and Quinn groans a little and coughs once and then winces, then she mumbles, "Thirsty."

Her voice is scratchy and her eyes are red and they don't open for very long, but Rachel thinks they're perfect.

Rachel holds a cup of water with a plastic straw in it to Quinn's mouth, and she drinks two sips before she's almost asleep again.

Frannie cries.

.

The next day, when Rachel gets to the hospital after school, she stops outside of the open door of Quinn's room when she sees Judy and Frannie and Quinn all laughing.

They're thin and blond and perfect, all of them, and Judy brushes her hand along Frannie's short bangs and Quinn grins and Frannie shrugs with a small smile.

Rachel hears Quinn say, "No, I think only Frannie can pull that off."

Frannie shakes her head and says, "No way, you could too," and Judy looks so fondly at both of her daughters that Rachel bites her knuckle as to not cry.

.

Late that night, Quinn wakes up. "Rachel," she says.

Rachel stumbles out of the little cot she's in and comes to sit next to Quinn. "Are you okay?" She brushes her fingers through Quinn's bangs, pushing them gently off her forehead.

Quinn smiles. "Yeah."

Rachel nods, relieved. "Good."

"I wanted to be just like her," Quinn says.

"Like Frannie?"

Quinn nods. "Always. She's always been like this. She's perfect, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Rachel says, "but you are too," she promises, and kisses Quinn's cheek.

.

Frannie brings Rachel coffee the next morning, and it's Saturday so she doesn't have anywhere to go.

Frannie sits down and today she's in skinny jeans and a New York Herald Tribune t-shirt.

"You really do look like Jean Seberg," Rachel says.

Frannie beams. "No one ever gets the reference."

"It's _Godard_."

Frannie laughs. "Exactly!"

Quinn wakes up for a few seconds and says some nonsensical things about a few dreams and then falls back asleep.

Frannie and Rachel wait a few seconds before giggling. Frannie says, "I'm really glad she's made some cool friends."

Rachel whispers, "Me too."

...

three. _it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

.

Quinn's handwriting is still perfect, even on a hospital napkin. It's slanted and a little jaunty, but neat all the same.

It's a list:

1. My toothbrush (which is not in my bedroom but in my bathroom, obviously.)

2. My forest green cardigan and my navy knit pullover

3. boxers (they're mine, not anyone else's, don't worry)

4. UNDERWEAR

5. The stuffed lamb on my bed (don't even think about saying anything about this!)

6. My Allen Ginsberg anthology

7. My laptop (in its case)

"Why can't your mom bring you these things?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow, which is remarkably comforting.

"I mean, she goes to your house everyday," Rachel continues.

Quinn clears her throat. "There may or may not possibly be some pot in my underwear drawer."

"Quinn!"

She rolls her eyes. "Relax. It's just left over from my—you know," she says. "I don't smoke it anymore. It was expensive, though." She pouts.

It makes Rachel want to laugh. "Okay," she says.

.

Quinn's room is big and airy and crammed full of books, which is something Rachel both expected and never would've guessed. It reminds her of an old person in the most lovely way, because Quinn has a record player and lots of vinyl and a large black and white poster of Marilyn Monroe next to a framed picture of Jesus, which makes Rachel smile.

Sure enough, there's pot underneath neat folded stacks of Quinn's underwear, untouched.

Rachel takes it with her, even though she has no idea what to do with it. It's just that she can't stand the idea of Quinn getting in trouble.

.

The first time Quinn gets to take a shower—a real shower—Rachel goes to the cafeteria. No matter what may be happening between them right now, this is not the way she first wants to see Quinn naked, and Frannie's there, and nurses, so Rachel waits until Frannie texts her that they're done.

She hadn't even touched her food.

She can hear Quinn crying down the hallway, and her steps quicken. Frannie is cradling her, squished into the side of the bed, as Quinn frantically grips the back of Frannie's sweater.

Frannie looks helplessly at Rachel with tears of her own, and Rachel takes it as an invitation to go bundle Quinn up in the most protective hug she can think of.

"They're awful," Quinn sobs.

Rachel's heart breaks.

This is the first time she kisses Quinn, touching her lips to Quinn's pale ones. Right there, the quickest flash of a thing. Frannie smiles and Quinn's eyes are huge in her face, and Rachel's heart stops.

"You're beautiful," she whispers.

Quinn's breath catches and her heart rate monitor is off the charts, a few strands of her still-wet hair falling into her eyes.

Then she smiles.

.

Quinn snuggles into Rachel's shoulder. She's sleepier now than she was a few minutes ago when Rachel had arrived after Glee club. These last few days have been harder because the doctor's are lowering Quinn's dose of morphine. It's hard for Rachel to watch Quinn in so much pain, but she knows it means that Quinn's healing, that she's getting better.

"You're a major nerd, aren't you?"

Quinn laughs. "I did get into Yale."

"No, I mean, you're like a _nerd_."

"This from the girl who—"

"I like it."

Quinn's so quiet Rachel thinks she may have fallen asleep. "Me too," she finally whispers.

.

"Are you sure you need it?"

Quinn nods. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

But Rachel goes, because apparently this book of E.E. Cummings poetry was the most important thing in the world right now.

The man at the junkyard is understanding and shows Rachel to the tangle of metal that used to be Quinn's car before backing up and turning a little.

It's the most horrifying thing Rachel's ever seen, because the entire driver's side of the little car is squished into nothing and there's blood (_Quinn's blood_) all over the deployed airbag and front seat. Rachel can hear Quinn's bones breaking and smell the gas and oil leaking from the bottom and it's a wonder she hasn't thrown up yet.

There's a small E.E. Cummings anthology in the back seat, though, squished into a corner, ornate and vintage and miraculously whole after the accident, and Rachel reaches in through where the window used to be and plucks it out.

It falls open to "i carry your heart" and Quinn has scripted _her _name—_Rachel Barbra Berry_—at the top of the page.

Rachel has never cried so hard in her entire life.

...

four. _i CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself_

.

The past day has been hell. Quinn started physical therapy and it's like everything was breaking all over again, she told Rachel, and what's worse is that only _half _of her body was able to feel right now.

"You're going to be okay," Rachel says, promises, because she needs it to be true too.

.

"I hate math," Quinn grumbles. "Fuck it." She pushes aside her textbook and reaches slowly for her computer.

Rachel frowns from her spot at a little side table she'd dragged in to do her homework on. "You're in AP Calc II."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "The fact that I'm good at math doesn't mean I like it."

Rachel stares at her Pre-Calculus homework. Quinn starts watching _Downton Abbey _(even though Rachel knows she's seen each episode a few times) and leans back happily against her pillows.

"Tell your teacher today sucked for me," she says, patting the empty spot in bed next to her.

"I can't do that."

"Yes, you can."

"But it'd be lying."

Quinn looks at Rachel very, very seriously then, angry and sad and so many other emotions Rachel has no idea what to do, so she walks to Quinn's bed and situates herself so her head is almost touching Quinn's against the pillow.

Neither of them says another word until an hour later, as Rachel untangles herself from Quinn's arms and kisses her forehead.

Quinn's already asleep.

It's not even 6:30 yet.

.

"Where are you taking me?"

Rachel doesn't answer.

"Where are you taking me?" This time Quinn sounds pissed, so Rachel leans down and kisses the top of Quinn's soft, bright hair—the only fantastic part of Quinn being in a wheelchair—pushing the wheelchair into an elevator.

"I promise you'll love it," Rachel says, and Quinn grumpily tugs her cardigan tighter across her chest, making sure to to tug on her IV.

When they finally get into the bright playroom, full of small children, most of them in hospital gowns or pajamas, Quinn looks up at Rachel nervously. "I don't—my lungs—I-I—"

Rachel smiles. "—Quinn, we're here to sing for _you_."

And then Rachel parks the wheelchair and goes over to the kids, and they all beam at Quinn and then stand by Rachel, their backs straight.

They sing "Across the Universe" and it's probably the cutest thing Quinn has _ever _heard, and Rachel beams the entire time at both Quinn and the kids.

Quinn joins in on the last chorus, and a little girl with blond hair and hazel eyes cheers.

Quinn doesn't cry until it's over.

She thanks them all, gives all of them hugs, and finds herself never wanting to let them go.

.

"Thank you," she tells Rachel.

Rachel shakes her head. "Thank you for never giving up." She takes Quinn's hand and adds, "Ever," because it's true.

...

five. _your love will be safe with me_

.

Rachel and Santana laugh so hard at Brittany's impression of Sarah Palin that they're crying, and Quinn gasps, "Stop, stop, my ribs hurt!" even though her laugh is just as loud as everyone else's.

Rachel unthinkingly pats Quinn's leg, and then Quinn freezes.

"I'm so sorry," Rachel says, her heart sinking. Quinn's eyes stay intensely trained on Rachel's hand. "Quinn?"

"Do it again," Quinn whispers.

Rachel puts her hand gently on Quinn's knee, and Quinn's face crumples. Her head goes back against the pillows. "Quinn?" Rachel asks again.

Quinn starts laughing, then, hard and desperately, and then she whispers, "I can feel that."

"You can feel that?" Santana's almost yelling. Rachel stands up.

Quinn nods. "I can feel that," she says again.

Brittany and Santana start screaming with happiness and Rachel joins in and then she squeezes Quinn's leg again, and Quinn's muscle shift beneath her fingers, and they all laugh and cry, irrationally, greedily, nonsensically, wonderfully, mostly just because they can.

.

Quinn will take her bones and rebuild them, and she will go back to school and learn to walk again. She'll be Valedictorian and stand when she gives her speech, her nervous eyes trained on Rachel the entire time. Rachel will hold her all summer, in the warm sun and the stars, and when they go to New Haven and New York in the fall, they will fall in love even more. They will live the lives of strangers—of new people, shining in the night—day after day.

* * *

><p>References (you know the drill):<p>

Title: "now i lay(with everywhere around)" by E.E. Cummings.

one. "Cool Like Kurt" by Big Deal.

two. _A Gate at the Stairs _by Lorrie Moore.

three. "i carry your heart" by E.E. Cummings.

four. "Song of Myself" by Walt Whitman.

five. "re: stacks" by Bon Iver.


End file.
